


don’t wanna walk alone (or runaway)

by metroelephant



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metroelephant/pseuds/metroelephant
Summary: The first thing Clint noticed when he returned to consciousness was the smell of coffee.The second thing Clint noticed was Bucky leaning over him quirking an eyebrow. “Oh good, you’re awake. Thought I lost you there for a second.”





	don’t wanna walk alone (or runaway)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to thatdamneddame for the beta and the support. I would finish nothing without you
> 
> Title is from The Bleachers

The first thing Clint noticed when he returned to consciousness was the smell of coffee. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was orange. Bright orange that made the first thing he felt—a sharp pain splitting his head apart causing his stomach to roll—worse. Clint winced, shutting his eyes again.

He counted in his head _one, two, three_, to steady himself before opening his eyes again.

The second thing Clint saw was Bucky leaning over him quirking an eyebrow. “Oh good, you’re awake. Thought I lost you there for a second.” He said it casually, the tone of his voice dry, but the look in his eyes betrayed the actual concern he was feeling.

Bucky leaned back as Clint slowly sat up. He was on a couch in what he figured was a safehouse. The walls were painted a too bright orange that made Clint feel as if he were trapped inside of a tangerine. On the other side of the room was a small kitchenette, where Clint was sure he saw the little coffee machine percolating. The couch he was lying on was a tattered blue, clashing with the walls, but was comfortable enough. Golden light streamed in through the blinds, the sun was either setting or rising, but he couldn’t be sure which, and didn’t know how long he’d been out for.

Clint blink slowly, trying to orient himself, to remember how their mission turned out, if they accomplished what they were sent to do, but the last thing he could recall was watching an arrow fly true into a man’s thigh (Fury yelling _incapacitate don’t kill, Barton_ a constant echo in his ears throughout missions lately) and then darkness. How long had he been out for?

He reached a hand to the back of his head, feeling a tender bump forming there. Ouch.

“Here,” Bucky said, handing Clint two small baby blue pills and his purple hearing aids in the palm of his right hand and a cup of coffee waiting in his left. 

Clint made a grab for the coffee, but Bucky held it out of reach, causing it to splash over the edge and hit the metal of his hand. Bucky wiggled his right hand around in such a way that said _these first, coffee after_. Clint took them with a glare and a grumble about how injured people should get what they want, fitting the aids behind his ears and swallowing the painkillers dry. Bucky then handed him the coffee, allowing Clint to take a long drag from the mug before speaking. “They clocked you pretty good. How’re you feeling?” The concern hadn’t completely ebbed from Bucky’s features, yet. His brow was still tensed, a wrinkle sitting on his forehead. His long hair, still damp with sweat from the fight earlier, was falling into his face a little, and he was still wearing his combat gear, a deep red stain splattered along his left side. He hadn’t touched Clint yet, but he was tense enough that Clint could tell he was holding back.

Clint tried to assess himself, to answer the question Bucky asked, but looking at Bucky, knowing Bucky wasn’t lying when he said he thought he lost Clint earlier, knowing that Bucky cared for him enough to continue to worry even once Clint was clearly going to live another day. Cared for him and brought him coffee. Well. Clint couldn’t help but blurt out, “Hey, let’s get married.”

Bucky’s head snapped up, eyes widening. “Oh fuck. You’re concussed.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

“You were hit in your head, you winced at the light when you woke up, and now you’re spewing nonsense, Clint. You’re concussed.”

“I winced at the tacky orange this place is painted, not at the light. I mean who the fuck paints their walls tiger orange? And it’s not nonsense, I’m serious.”

“Clint–”

“No. Really. Let’s get married. I kind of like you, you kind of like me, we both really like seeing each other naked, and I’d even hazard a guess that neither one of us particularly wants to live without the other…” his head bobbled in thought, “potentially ever.”

“You _kind of_ like me? _Kind of_?” 

“I mean, you can be a bit bossy at times,” Clint said, grinning.

Bucky’s lip twitched, betraying the amusement Clint knew he actually felt. “This is the worst marriage proposal I’ve ever seen.”

“Seen a lot, have you? Just how much competition have I got?”

Bucky tilted his head, moving his lips as if he were counting in his head one, two, three, four…. “Probably about two or three dozen people,” he answered, mirth shining from his eyes.

“I’ll fight them for your hand. We can do it old school, Robin Hood style. Let’s have an archery tournament.”

“In what world would I be Maid Marian?”

Clint shrugged one shoulder. “In my world.”

Bucky paused, piercing eyes looking at Clint, considering. “I don’t think Robin Hood ever competed for the right to marry Maid Marian.”

Clint laughed. “Are you sure? I could’ve sworn he did.”

“Pretty sure he didn’t.”

“Hmmm. I guess we’ll have to have a Robin Hood movie marathon soon then and see. After I win your hand, of course.”

“Maybe after that concussion heals up some, too.”

“I told you, I’m not concussed.”

“Let’s go home and let a medical professional decide that.”

Clint sighed and threw himself back on the couch, flinging his arm over his eyes as dramatically as he could, and accidentally hit his head on the armrest in the process. He tried not to grimace, or at least to not let Bucky see him grimace.

“Fine. Let’s go home. But you have to answer my question first.”

“Clint, you’re con–”

“I’m not concussed,” Clint said emphatically, standing up much too quickly and teetering off balance slightly. His head spun, his vision blurred a little. Bucky reached out to hold him steady, rolling his eyes at Clint’s proclamation.

“Okay,” Clint conceded. “Maybe I’m a little concussed. But,” he raised his voice. Bucky was still close enough that it caused him to wince. “But,” he said softer now, “that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m asking. What I want.” Clint’s eyes met Bucky’s, holding his gaze. “I want you, and I want you forever.” 

Bucky was quiet for a minute, one hand still braced on Clint’s bicep, keeping him upright and in place. 

“Forever, huh?”

“Yeah. Forever.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Well, then. You are injured. I guess you should be able to get what you want.” Clint’s face broke out in the stupidest grin. He could feel his cheeks straining so much it almost hurt, but he couldn’t stop. “We can stop by the courthouse next week.” Bucky was smiling now, too, and oooh boy, Clint couldn’t wait to see that forever.

“We have a date.”


End file.
